


Exit Row

by likelike_love



Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 11:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likelike_love/pseuds/likelike_love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary goes to great lengths for a friend in need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exit Row

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pipisafoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipisafoat/gifts).



> This fic had a year and a half evolution, eventually being posted for the first mary_marshall.livejournal.com My Smutty Valentine Event. It was written for pipisafoat, start to finish. papilliongirl listened to me whine throughout.
> 
> [Originally posted](http://mary-marshall.livejournal.com/516315.html) on mary_marshall.livejournal.com on February 13, 2011.

They were flying direct, Albuquerque to New York. For Mary, this was a rare treat, a true blessing. Flying from Albuquerque to Missoula via Tallahassee and Kansas City was the standard Witsec MO. So, there was a little skip in her step as they made their way through the airport. She shoved Marshall off the people mover in front of the newsstand, pressed the handle of her rolling suitcase into his hand, and wandered inside to begin her preflight ritual. Three minutes later, she emerged, grinning, with a copy of Guns & Ammo magazine, a king size bag of peanut m&ms, and a bag of Cheetos.

"I swear to God, Mare, you're gonna get us stopped at the checkpoint again."

"Jesus, you whine ... we're _marshals_ ... and besides, it serves you right for getting us here two hours early _for a domestic flight_ , for Chrissakes!"

"You ever stop to think that maybe I give us the extra time because I know you're always up to something that's going to get us in hot water and I need to leave us a cushion-"

"Yeah, yeah. Well, let's get to it then..."

They made it through the TSA checkpoint with plenty of time to spare. After the way Mary toyed with the officer gliding the hand-held metal detector wand across her body, Marshall remarked that it was probably the first time that security had been sexually harassed by a traveler. Marshall, in these situations, generally led with his badge, identifying himself immediately as a marshal. Mary, on the other hand, enjoyed waltzing through the security with her glock concealed, holstered at her waist beneath her jacket, leading a minimum of three security officials to draw down on her, causing a scene that always devolved into Mary laughing so hard she crossed her legs to keep from peeing herself. Marshall, for his part, always played his role, smoothing feathers as quickly as Mary could ruffle them. As they waited to pick up their carry-ons from the conveyor, Marshall sighed heavily, running a hand roughly down his face.

"What is it, doofus?" Mary was hauling both suitcases off the conveyor and wheeling them in the direction of their gate. She did not slow to wait for his answer, instead she picked up her pace before cutting off a family of four, wheeling the suitcases across their path and skidding to a stop in front of Cinnabon. She ordered one before remembering herself and asking Marshall if he wanted one. He shook his head no, wheeling the suitcases to a row of chairs across from the stand. "Okay, just the one, then." As an afterthought, "And a bottle of water."

When she made her way to the gate area, Marshall was bouncing his foot up and down, palms flat on his thighs, eyes scrunched shut. She sank down heavily in the seat next to his. "Seriously, you look like you're waiting to face the executioner. For the love of Mike, what is _wrong_ with you, Marshall?"

"What? What? It's nothing." He blinked a few times. Coughed. Mary handed him the bottle of water and he gulped gratefully. Marshall reached into the front pocket of his bag and pulled out a bottle of aspirin, bounced a pill out into his palm, and washed it down with another swig of water. Mary picked at her cinnamon roll, slowly unravelling flaky ribbons of greasy frosted pastry while turning the situation over in her mind. She stretched an arm across the back of his chair and regarded him critically - took in the boarding pass clutched in a sweaty hands, the set of his jaw, his fidgeting feet. And she waited.

He smoothed out the ticket against his thigh, staring at it intensely enough to set it ablaze. When he spoke, she leaned further over his frame, convinced that she had misheard him. 

"We're not sitting in the exit row."

"We're what now?"

"We're not sitting in the exit row." He looked up and took in Mary's quizzical look.

"So, someone else is going to have to take that responsibility, you boy scout. We're. Off. Duty." She swatted him on the shoulder for each of the last three words.

He shot her a wry smile and went back to smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in his pant legs. "You seriously haven't noticed that we've flown in the exit row for every flight you've been on with me?"

"What, you're superstitious? C'mon, Marshall, I promise sitting another row won't put some sort of spiritual whammy on us."

"You're calling _me_ superstitious?" A giggle slipped out in spite of himself. "This coming from the woman who won't walk into a courtroom without scuffing her toe against the doorjamb? Three times?" She thought to protest but if being honest, she couldn't.

He continued. "No, Mary, I'm not superstitious. I'm 6'3". Being trapped next to you for four hours with my knees up my nose is not an experience I'm looking forward to, okay?"

She chewed slowly, nodding. "Well, we'll just tell whoever's sitting there to skedaddle. Flash a little badge, give em a peek at your weapon..."

"I will not." Her eyes lit up, and he cut her off before she could get going. "And you won't either!"

"The martyr complex is so last season, Marshall."

"Can we stop talking about this?" He stretched his legs out straight in front of him and let his head fall back against Mary's arm still wound behind him. He took up as much room as one could take and still be sitting upright. Cocking her head to the side and taking in the sight, Mary could see that Marshall had a point. She squeezed his shoulder absently, wondering how far she would have to go to distract her partner... _Four hours. Huh._

* * *

Thirty minutes ticked by slowly. Marshall's eyes remained closed, his features pinched tightly. He did not sleep. Mary leaned her own head back, let her mind spin some, formulating the beginnings of a plan. When the flight crew began pre-boarding, Marshall raised his head and regarded Mary. "Are you going to behave yourself?"

She flashed him a wicked grin. "Don't I always?" And she unfolded herself from the chair, smoothed the wrinkles out of her slacks and headed towards the jetway.

"Oh, brother..." he muttered as he reached down for the carryons and followed behind. 

Mary bared her teeth in a smile that was more menacing than friendly, and Marhsall ducked his head to cross the threshold. They made their way down the aisle, stopping frequently as passengers ahead of them stowed their items in the overhead bins.

Mary stopped short at the exit row. She moved her hand to her waist, and cleared her throat. Marshall stopped short behind her, dropped the bags, and wrapped a hand around her biceps. He turned to the passengers who were waiting expectantly. "Please excuse us. Sorry to have disturbed you." 

He urged Mary down the aisle with a not so gentle shove. She tossed her hair back and laughed, as they made their way to their seats. 

When Marshall hoisted the first bag into the overhead, Mary waited ahead of him in the aisle with her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "Aisle or window?"

"Does it matter?" Marshall muttered as he hefted her suitcase up and closed the bin with a snap. Mary scooted into the window seat and looked at him intently. Marshall folded himself into the seat next to her with a sigh. She busied herself stowing her snacks and magazine in the seatback in front her.

"Cheer up, Charlie." She twisted the latch to release the tray table, letting it drop down before pulling it forward and then pushing it back a few times in a row. He reached out and folded his hand over hers, halting her movements. The corner of her lips curled up and she shrugged one shoulder. "Okay, okay."

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you would direct your attention to Candice at the front of the cabin, the captain has asked that we review a few safety instructions with you. The information card in your seatback pocket illustrates the safety equipment on this aircraft. US federal regulations require compliance to this information as well as all crew instructions, lighted information signs, and posted placards." The flight attendant spoke so quickly that the words melted together in her monotone drone. "Fasten your seatbelt by inserting the metal tip into the buckle, tighten by pulling on the belt. To release your seatbelt, lift the metal flap on the buckle. It is airline policy that you keep your seatbelt fastened at all times while seated...."

Marshall sighed and lowered his hand to reach for the seatbelt, but came up empty. When he turned his head, Mary was busily staring out the window at the tarmac.

"Mare?"

"Hmmm?" she replied distractedly.

"I need my seatbelt." He gestured vaguely towards her seat.

"You certainly do." She flashed him her most innocent look. This being Mary, it wasn't that innocent.

"Mary."

"Marshall." Her gaze was steady.

"Where is my seatbelt, Mary?" He spoke slowly and enunciated.

Mary quirked an eyebrow at him. "Search me." Her tone was suggestive as she raised her hands in mock surrender.

" _Mary_." 

She stifled a smile as the veins in his neck bulged.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to fasten your seatbelt." Candice, the flight attendant, leaned over and flashed them a dazzling smile.

"I-"

"I'll just give him a hand," Mary interrupted, raising her hips off the seat to retrieve the seatbelt from behind her. 

She reached across Marshall to fasten the seatbelt low on his hips. She rested one hand high on his thigh while she tightened the belt with the other hand. She didn't miss the look of alarm or the sharp intake of air on his part. She ran her short fingernails over the tense muscle of his thigh as she pulled her hand back. Marshall's knuckles whitened where he gripped the armrest.

She snuggled further into her seat, turning to the window with a satisfied smile.

* * *

It was an hour into the flight, and to the untrained observer, Marshall would appear to be sleeping. Even out of the corner of her eye, Mary could see the furrow of his brow, the downward turn of the corners of his mouth, the huff of each exhale. She saw his eyes pop open as his hand reached up to undo a couple of buttons and pull anxiously at his shirt collar. 

Mary turned her head towards him, and winked so quickly he couldn't be sure that he hadn't imagined it. 

"It _is_ a little warm in here, isn't it?" 

She reached up and slowly undid a button from her pinstriped blouse, then another. Her hand lingered on a third, shifting forward to adjust the air vent above their heads. She was more than aware that Marshall's height gave him an excellent view of her cleavage. She could see his adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"I'm gonna..." He gestured toward the front of the plane before beating a hasty retreat up the aisle.

Mary smiled and raised the center armrest before reaching into the seat pocket to retrieve her m&ms.

* * *

When Marshall returned, Mary was sprawled across both seats with her shoes off. He tapped her gently on the top of her foot. Mary smiled and scooted to the side, still crowding his seat. He squeezed in, leaning away from his predatory partner. At that moment, Candice wheeled the beverage cart by, knocking Marshall squarely on the elbow.

"Oh, my goodness! I am _so_ sorry, sir," Candice effused as Marshall shook his arm, numb to the fingertips.

"Are you okay? Oh, I'm ... gosh, I'm so ... I can't apologize enough."

"It's fine," Marshall coughed, his eyes watering.

Mary returned her hand to Marshall's thigh to lean across him towards the flight attendant. "I'll tell you how you can make it up to us."

Candice's eyes grew large. "Of course! Please, name it."

Mary raised two fingers and gestured quickly between Marshall and herself quickly. "Vodka tonics. And keep 'em coming."

Candice kept up her end of the bargain and the next two hours flew by in a vodka-fueled haze. Both marshals were glassy-eyed and laughing. Marshall was absentmindedly massaging Mary's bare feet in his lap when the captain lit the fasten seatbelts sign for their descent.

* * *

Mary patted Candice on the ass as she exited the plane onto the jetway, leaving Marshall to make apologies. They made their way with the rest of the passengers through a nearly empty terminal following the signs for ground transportation. As they made it past the deserted baggage carousels, Mary pulled Marshall into an alcove, pressing him backwards into a column with one hand on his chest.

"Mary-"

She shushed him and leaned her face in perilously close to his.

"Mary." He put his hands on her shoulders to ease her backwards. "Mary, I know what you're doing. And I'm grateful. But we're on the ground now and you can stop pretending."

She laughed, snaking a hand beneath his long wool overcoat to rest on his hip. He was trembling. She turned her face up to his again.

"Who's pretending?" She closed the distance and pressed her lips to his.

When she pulled away his eyes were wide. "But, but, it's not supposed to happen like this. Just on a regular day. It's not supposed to ... it's too sudden. I'm not...."

She pressed her lips to his again to silence him. One hand moved to the back of her neck and the other drifted down to the small of her back, pulling her closer to him.

When they pulled apart, she returned both hands to his chest and smiled. "Too sudden? Is seven years sudden?"

She placed her hand in his and dragged him and her rolling suitcase into the cold of the New York winter. She shivered on the curb as they waited in the taxi queue. He tugged his gloves onto her hands and pulled her closer as they made their way to the front of the line.

* * *

The interior of the cab smelled like gasoline and Mary cracked the window to let in some of the cold night air. Her face was flushed slightly from the alcohol and the ends of her hair were curling from the damp of the snow. 

Marshall marveled drunkenly at how angelic she appeared as she snuggled into his side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and sighed contentedly. When she rested her cheek against his chest, his eyes closed reflexively. Drinking made him sleepy and he must have nodded off for just an instant. When he awoke to the sensation of Mary's fingers roaming his inseam, a giggle, high and girlish, escaped his lips. 

Mary smiled against his coat. Her fingers inched higher over his zipper, and she heard his breath catch. While the alcohol had fuzzied his mind, it had not dulled all his reflexes. Mary cupped a bulge that was impressive even to her exacting standards. She murmured appreciatively. 

By the time his brain caught up, Mary had made quick work of the button and was unzipping his fly. He grabbed for her wrist, but she smacked him away playfully before snaking a hand beneath the waistband of his boxers. It was instinct that compelled him to buck once, twice into her grip before his brain engaged enough to slow his movement. 

She picked her head up off his chest to take in the sight of propriety and abandon waging war in the expression on his face. At that moment, the taxi pulled up in front of the hotel and Mary called out, "Once more around the block."

Marshall ground out a "No" in a voice that he did not recognize. 

Mary laughed silently at the sight of Marshall struggling to zip his pants and wrestle with the bills in his wallet. She started to balk at the size of the tip he was leaving when he grabbed her hand and pulled her bodily from the cab. She stumble-stepped up the walk until she regained her footing and Marshall never let go of her hand. She left his gloves in the backseat.


End file.
